‘The Current State of Brexit’ by Damian Robin

When May became P. M., she had a doggéd view –
Her Parliament majority would fly us through:
All Brexit documents on leaving the E. U.,
All Acts of Parliament, all formal how-d’ya-do,
All business needs, all travel, borderline decree,
Could all be pushed along by her majority.

Alone she looked at things.
She thought she had the means:
Thinking it had wings;
She said that “Brexit means
Brexit” – whatever that means.

Now miréd in amendments,
Votes and locked division,
Britain’s Brexit biscuits
Are dunked with limp derision.

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I don’t pretend to understand the political nuances inherent in this matter, but where have the likes of Winston Churchill, or even Maggie Thatcher, gone? I know the answer: to the grave, which is exactly where England will be going if someone other than Tommy Robinson doesn’t step up to fill the breach. Where is the royal family, and where are King Arthur’s knights? The Round Table now consists of a bunch of eunuchs without honor, whom no one with any sense would wish to emulate. I cannot abandon hope, but I despair of ever being presented with evidence that my hope is justified.

The smothering, labyrinthine, blood-sucking, run-the-gauntlet, path that winds through the EU bureaucracy, the insurmountable obstacles interminably thrown up by the muscle-flexing national leaders of Germany and France, the UK’s inability to assert even minimal control over its own national sovereignty, and the financial extortion demanded as penalty and punishment for withdrawal, are incontrovertible proof that the only thing better than escaping from the disdainful, vengeful clutches of the European Union is to have never have joined it in the first place.

Exactimundo, James. Where have the heroes gone? Where is King Arthur when we need him? And who sits at the Round Table nowadays but eunuchs unfit for any quests but appreciation of their own discredited navels? Where have the mothers of heroic generations gone? Questions outnumber answers, and we seem to be left in a miasma of undifferentiated nothingness. Will someone please stand up?!

Mrs. Thatcher would never have been such a limp dishrag as this Theresa May has shown herself to be in dealing with the E.U. Maggie would have told those Belgian-French-German vermin to bugger off with their new Third Reich. And as for that narcissistic technocrat, Macron, she would have eaten the little twit alive.

By the time this is read, Brexit, the exit of Britain from the European Union (EU), will have moved to a later stage. Evan has posted it on the day flagged for the UK to leave the EU. The thing rolls on and April 12, May 22, June 30, even five years or a second referendum are now the new markers that may or may not be reached.

I wrote the poem below yesterday. It needs revision when I have some mental distance from it and the morass of Brexit has stopped moving. Sadly, the UK Brexit negotiators are not able to go back over their work to revise the consequences.

A good thing that is coming from the mess is the human core of many of the politicians who are not central to the work. There have been more than ten major votes in two weeks and the BBC has posted how MPs voted. Many are voting against their Party whips. And many are talking openly of their core beliefs and move out from expected Party alignments.

As to the wished-for knights in shining armour, I would put forward Jacob Rees-Mogg. He talks with dignity, reason, humanity, and bravery. It’s a no-nonsense bravery of faith. He is a Catholic. He said of his opposition to same sex marriage “marriage is a sacrament and the decision of what is a sacrament lies with the Church, not with Parliament.” And also “I oppose same-sex marriage but I would go to a gay wedding.” [from Wikipedia entry for Jacob rees-Mogg — Sawer, Patrick (9 September 2017). “Jacob Rees-Mogg: ‘I oppose same-sex marriage, but I’d go to a gay wedding'”. The Telegraph.]
He is a straightforward speaker more than a political manoeuveror.

As he is involved with principles not power, he is unlikely to be in line for a government position in the present climate.

Even though, very soon, the Prime Minister Treasa May, who frequently made the useless comment “Brexit means Brexit”, may no longer be Prime Minister.

Brexit ! Get us out of here !
The EU grows, we disappear !
Three years have gone, leave’s overdue,
Yet still we’re in the EU’s crew.
Complicated waters rise
That we must ford to free our prize.
The country polled the People’s Vote –
To sail away, to be remote,
To ship off from Leviathan
That slops on site and citizen;
On all our lives its flesh-glut sags,
Like beady, bloating offal bags,
A lipo-fat’ning flabby bin
That floods while never breaking skin.

Brexit ! Why are we still here ?
Get us out from under here !
Before our grating, grinding gears
Collapse to scraps of bum arrears
As England, Wales, and Northern Ireland
Stall in Brussels’ yards with Scotland
Where we’re stacked as smashed crash dummies
Pyramiddled high like mummies.
In its shadow MPs dither,
Becoming wise as options wither;
They handle human terms with sense
But cannot get squat passed the fence
Of bureaucratic precedence,
Of dates and time, all grammar’s tense.
For human traits of move and win
Creates its own chaotic din;
When parliamentary debate
Has dropped the map that follows Fate
In legal sidings dwell the rules
And trade’s side-lined by trophy tools:
All is insubstantial bluster
And sails of Heaven hard to muster.

Brexit ! Get us out of here !
In circles now our futures steer,
Intransigence gains stymied weight
As though we’ll sink and clog the state,
Our lands are strapped along the shore
Moored in EU “As before”.
Parliament may raise its voice
To point again to People’s Choice;
But though MPs may strain to give
They’re hampered by Executive.
Never having had the room
To swing and push with freedom’s broom,
In rampant service, minds go sour,
Cavorting on the leaving hour.
But hear! these points have been discussed
Not battled, baynotted and rushed.
Not trenched, dug in, hard Party lined,
Their true realities have been refined
The truth unspade-ed shifts with toil
But where to mound the displaced soil .

Brexit ! Get us out of here !
Though little’s left to gurn or fear
We won’t fall out at sea like stone
Or storm-washed from a dingy throne;
For even if we go “No Deal”
We’ll still possess our Sovereign Seal.
Businesses will still be run.
Like dynasties, once they’re begun;
Food and goods will move through hands
Across our shores to foreign lands.
We’ll still have routes and trade branch links
Even if the EU sinks;
Shrink-wrapped in uncertainties,
We’ll still send products overseas
Though businesses look down the pan
At possibles they cannot plan,
Whenever Deal or No Deal comes,
They will resume to add up sums.
Embarrassment can’t be ignored
But diplomats were never floored
When human thinking’s flesh shone bare
With closure dropped for full-on share.

Brexit ! Get us out of here !
Ground-level-pegged or multi-tier.
Though human scale’s re-introduced
There’s still the fear we’ll be seduced
By EU ease of “As U were”
And being ruled from over there.
Our forebears always fuddled through –
What ever comes is what is due.
It’s not about a nation’s pride,
It is about what moves inside.
Not narrow-plated sovereignty
It’s what it means to be set free.

It is a fine and noble thing to see a British poet defend his country’s freedom and cultural prestige, even as we in the States feel most powerfully the duty and privilege of acknowledging the fundamental importance of the English literary tradition in the development of our own.

I see that Theresa May got kicked in the teeth for a third time by Parliament. When is this broad going to realize that the ruinous “exit deal” she got from the Frogs and Krauts is UNACCEPTABLE to Britons?

All of this is part of Theresa May’s plan. The Brexit move keeps on being postponed, week after week, month after month. May hopes that something will happen in that time to cancel the entire thing. The woman is a dishonest, lying bitch.

Britons, take this advice from an American — JUST GET OUT, deal or no deal. Let everybody who can’t handle it scream their bloody heads off, but JUST LEAVE! Let the businessmen scream, let the bankers scream, let the Irish scream, let the Scots scream, let the Frogs and Krauts scream.

Show the courage you had when fighting Napoleon and Hitler. Tell the Europeans that you’re finished with them, and if they don’t like it they can drop dead. And tell Theresa May to shove her “deal” up her arse.

If all Gen-X and Gen-Y types
Did not go to the polls;
If yuppies from the London banks
Were dreaming of their goals;
If self-absorbed Millennials
Were too spaced-out on speed–
Well, that’s the kind of leftist scum
Great Britain doesn’t need.
And as for Terry May, her views
Don’t matter one damned whit–
The Brexit vote said “Get us out
Of all this E.U. shit!”

THANK YOU, Jan, for your sure views
on words quick whisked in passion’s ruse
that whips up tone for harsh effect
to froth your bile if you reject
the depths of truth that we respect
and think all others should respect
and not one of us should reject;
and so we egg the heart’s effect
that takes its place when we peruse
this beat up world from Beauty’s views.

Darling, Robin — I’m afraid
You just don’t know how warfare’s played.
Being prissy and polite
Doesn’t work when you must fight.
You think the anti-Brexit crew
Will show the same restraint with you?
They’re out to have your guts for garters,
And listen up — that’s just for starters.
Once they’ve “revised” the Brexit vote
They’ll turn on you and cut your throat.
“Good Will” and “Beauty” sure sound nice,
But frankly, you both sound like mice
Afraid to kick and scratch the foe.
If that’s the way you choose to go
Then fine — pen sonnets for this site
Wrapped up in pure and pious light;
Write odes that mark you as genteel
And proper folks who bow and kneel
Before the Leftist-Labour creeps
Who play real hard, and play for keeps.
That’s the way to lose a battle,
And guarantee your own death-rattle.

Yes you’re right, Joe, what I know’s
No more than boy doll GI Joes
Of war’s furors or battle cries,
Or blowing out somebody’s eyes.
You’re right, I don’t know how to fight
Those Leftist ghouls opposing right
Who’ve changed their minds like dead of night;
Nor Government who would do Right
That’s nothing more than poor appeals
To EUreaucrats for hankshake meals.

I hum the tunes of Falun Gong
Persecuted for too long.
They have their organs ripped out, sold,
As I’m sure you have been told,
And bodies bagged in refuse sacks
In queues to burn in Party packs,
The floor mopped clear of bloody silt
In transplant centres newly built.

re my comment above about ‘organs ripped out’ please consider https://chinatribunal.com/
The China Tribunal had its second sessions this weekend. It is investigating the yea or nay of Organ Theft in China. Its unanimous interim judgement is that it is happening; it is unusual for an independent tribunal to give its finding before finishing its investigation but the seven members hope that by doing so some lives will be saved.

Terry May wants more time to argue and convince? Argue with whom, and convince whom? The bureaucratic scum in Brussels have said in no uncertain terms that the Brexit deal she agreed to is not subject to alteration. So who’s she going to argue with?

“More time to solve the nation’s plight”?

“She won’t give up without a fight”?

Good grief, the woman gave up when she folded like a cheap camera to the outrageous demands of the Frogs and Krauts! If she still wants to fight, it’s with those members of her own party who are trying to preserve British sovereignty! As for time, she’s had over two years to get her bloody arse in gear over Brexit — Maggie Thatcher (a woman with a backbone) would have handled this affair with savage despatch.

The problem with Terry May is psychological — her heart is simply NOT IN BREXIT, and therefore she cannot direct her willpower and energy to bring it about. In addition, she is scared out of her wits by the French and the Germans, because she is desperate to keep their good opinion and respect. She is essentially a statist and a benign liberal despot (as all European E.U. partisans are), and she cannot even conceive of acting like an independent leader of a free nation. That’s why she refused Trump’s offer of help in getting through the Brexit difficulty — she couldn’t bear the opprobrium of being associated with a hard right-wing leader.

Bad language is a problem for you? Well, in that case you should retire from political disputes, because it is only going to get much, much worse in the next few years. And frankly, salty language will be the least of your problems as defenders of Western civilization. You’re going to need knives and guns, not books on etiquette.

I apologise, Robin, for jumping in front of you with a reply. I am wondering if, perhaps, we are demonstrating fundamental differences in approach more than anything else. In this specific discussion there are two sides – not only of the argument – but also of the Atlantic. One is essentially phlegmatic and the other is in-ya-face. It seems to me that we want the same outcome – Britain to direct its own destiny again. There will be problems en route because she is undoing what she has done. There is always a price to pay for that. Robin is right in expressing the many frustrations of slow/no positive movements towards solution. Joseph is right in observing that TM’s heart is not in it. It can’t be – she voted for the other side. BUT she took on the responsibility of representing it with grace and immediately, and is discharging it as well as she is able. I understand Joseph’s use of ‘salty language’ – I just think that his case is not improved by vulgarity.

Jan, re salty dogs and spicey language—depends on the audience. In front rooms and tea rooms, delicacy pervades. (Until the revolution and the truth-police raids.)
On campuses, in bars, online, and open mike debates, there’s open space for conflict til civility deteriorates.
Extremes poison the water. Deadly streams pour on slaughter. And this is where Joe sees things going.

What came to mind was

You want to weave your world to gossamer
so thin it’s but a veil from Paradise
while blasting bombs the background bessemer
that boils the Behemoth of sins and vice.

As to Mrs May – she has many positive personal traits. You can point out how she is a woman in the traditional male-weighted public domain of politics. You can introduce her disability, type 1 diabetes, and say how courageous she is. Point out her childlessness that was/is a long grief to her. You can look up to her for her quiet belief in God.

All note-worthy human traits but not to be brought into assessment of her leadership or her political ideas or policies. She is a public servant who has kept tenaciously to an entrenched view of the EU that no-one can move her from as this, she says, is the best deal we can get with the EU.

She’s also repeatedly said “Brexit means Brexit” without explaining what Brexit is. People did not vote for Breixt , they voted to leave the EU. In my view, Brexit has become a third element of stay, leave, or Brexit. We are stuck in Brexit. There is no will on her side to leave without a deal with the EU, without some way of keeping as much of the laws and agreements we have with the EU as to make leaving have little independence.

I feel leaving has slipped away already.

Mrs May has thought more of leaving with a contract with the EU than leaving the EU. She is now trying to garner support from Labour, an avowed socialist party with a deputy head who has said he is a marxist. Do we really need Labour to help us ‘win’ like we needed Stalin’s military might to finish fascism and then find we are at cold war later. All the colleagues – ERG and DUP being the most cohesive – on her side of the House have failed to back her in the numbers she would feel legitimised by. She wont budge the deal made with the mighty EU unless a band of brothers goes with her. She may soon use Labour as a blame post for not supporting this deal and so sabotaging Brexit.

In retrospect, she has lied in saying we would leave the EU on the 29th March and not doing it. And by not doing anything constructive about Brexit or firming up leave documents and agreements in the last two-plus years, she has scuppered the UK on the beaches and lakes of Europe.

Here, like mollusks, we do not go,
The birth of a nation clobbered.
To go with the flow is moribund slow
With the mucus the May-be’s have slobbered.